


How to Fall Over your Prince

by Ceebee



Series: The Manservant and The Prince [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Clumsiness :'), Fluff, M/M, Protective!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 05:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceebee/pseuds/Ceebee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin’s clumsiness was suddenly so apparent that Arthur could hardly breathe for fear that it would cause his bumbling manservant to topple over and crack his head open.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Fall Over your Prince

**Author's Note:**

> This carries on from How to Snooze with your Manservant, but can be read as a standalone.
> 
> Inspired by [this gifset](http://colsandbradders.tumblr.com/post/22367283368/cant-help-it) made by Ron, on tumblr. 
> 
> This fic has not been beta'd so sjdfg ugh, I hope there aren't too many mistakes.

Arthur hadn't been entirely sure what he'd been getting into, after he'd kissed Merlin for the first time; that startling press of skin on skin that had led to him practically carrying the manservant back to his chambers so that they could sprawl on his bed together.

Upon waking the next morning, Arthur found that Merlin's eyes were already wide open, and his lips were twitching tentatively—quivering on the brink of a soft, hopeful smile.

"What?" Arthur asked, bemused. Merlin shrugged narrow shoulders before sighing, and pushed as close to Arthur as possible, warm fingers moving to press curiously over the Prince's chest. Arthur shivered as ragged nails dragged gently over his bare skin. He was unable to tear his gaze from Merlin's face, which was slightly grubby and with a dent from his hairline to his cheek, from the edge of the cushion he'd fallen asleep against. Arthur grudgingly admitted to himself that Merlin looked lovely.

"What do you mean, 'what'?" Merlin let his hand go still for a moment as he spoke, before the other arm that he had been leaning on gave way, and he collapsed back onto mattress.

"I was _going_ to ask why you were staring at me," Arthur propped himself up, assuming the position Merlin had been in seconds ago, leaning on his elbow with his face resting in his palm, "but now I'm more interested in finding out if you really are such a weakling, that you can't even hold yourself up without needing some kind of assistance."

Arthur was intrigued to see the blush that crept up Merlin's throat, before clouding across his pale face. The tips of his ears were glowing, and Arthur found himself reaching out to touch one of them. Merlin started at the contact, and then relaxed with an embarrassed smile as Arthur swiped his thumb over the hot, red skin. "I'm not a weakling." He said, at last, his voice a little hoarse.

"No..." Arthur acknowledged after a moment, because although Merlin wasn't strong in the literal sense—in the way of swinging swords, and lifting things heavier than a basket of herbs for Gaius—he was still possibly the most hardwearing man Arthur knew. "But you _are_ clumsy as hell."

Merlin lay there, frowning at the ceiling while Arthur took his turn to slip his hand beneath Merlin's nightshirt, and run calloused fingers around his belly button.

"I've always been clumsy." He said.

"Yes." Arthur agreed, although his attention was torn between the other man's words, and this new found territory that was Merlin's _skin_ and all the warmth that flowed beneath.

"You love me anyway." Merlin was still staring upwards, like this was a concept he was finding difficult to get his head around. Arthur wasn't surprised—Merlin's brain could be a marvellous thing but, most of the time, it seemed to be abnormally slow at picking up the obvious.

He didn't reply for long enough that he was sure the manservant had grasped the truth, which ought to have been plain from the way Arthur didn't physically seem able to draw his touch away from Merlin's stomach. "I do." He said, just at the instant where Merlin seemed to be coming to the same conclusion.

"Oh." He whispered, before his face split into a wide, ice-melting grin.

*

After it had been pointed out like that, while they had both been so vulnerable beneath Arthur's duvet, Merlin's clumsiness seemed to become...more pronounced.

It didn't get any _worse_ , it was just more noticeable. Merlin would trip about a hundred times a day while completing the simplest of tasks and chores, and at least ninety percent of those little staggers concluded with the manservant sprawled on his face, or landing with an _oof_ on his backside.

 _Before,_ Arthur would have just rolled his eyes and perhaps even given the man a light kick upon passing. He still did occasionally just keep walking, doing his best to ignore Merlin's outraged squawk from where he was sitting. In the end though, he would twist around and haul him to his feet, hands twisting in the silky hairs at Merlin's nape before he could stop them.

Then he would tug them, gently; just hard enough for Merlin's eyelids to flutter: a small reprimand for injuring himself, when truly the last thing Arthur wanted was for Merlin to get hurt.

It wasn't just things like falling over, though. Arthur began picking up on the smaller incidents, like Merlin snagging a splinter in his thumb, or hitting his funny bone when he was manoeuvring past the tables in the kitchens.

Merlin sneezing when soot went up his nose, and then knocking his head against the top of the fireplace.

Merlin stumbling, fumbling and tripping over uneven flagstones.

Pricking his finger while mending Arthur's clothes.

Scalding himself when he was trying to run a bath.

Merlin's clumsiness was suddenly so apparent that Arthur could hardly breathe for fear that it would cause his bumbling manservant to topple over and crack his head open. As the days went on, turning into months that stretched blissfully on, so different to how they used to be, with Merlin clambering into bed beside him every night to sigh hot and sweet against his ear, Arthur knew that it was happening again.

Merlin was doing that...that _thing_ that made Arthur just want to hold him tight and make sure he was safe, always. He knew it wasn't on purpose—Merlin hadn't _asked_ to be clumsy, anymore than he had asked to be cold all that time ago, when the Prince had taken his idiot's wellbeing into his own hands, buying beds and blankets to make sure Merlin slept comfortably and didn't wake up shivering.

Now, it was time to do it again: to go out of his way to make Merlin less of a danger to himself, the fool.

He decided, after not much consideration, that the best place to start would be the bed. Merlin was outside, probably doing something menial and disgusting like mucking out the stables. Arthur had instructed Leon to keep an eye on him, so hopefully he wouldn't come to _too_ much harm, and the job should keep his manservant busy for a good couple of hours which was ample time for Arthur to, as he fondly phrased it in his own head, 'idiot-proof' his chambers.

When Merlin finally got back, smelling slightly iffy and with a sour look on his face, Arthur was just finishing up.

"Oh my _God_ , Arthur! What did you—"

Arthur interrupted quickly, bounding forwards before Merlin could step inside and ruin everything with his filthy feet. "Don't just walk in here!" he exclaimed, pushing the other man lightly in the chest until he moved away from the threshold. "You'll mess up all the blankets with those shoes on! Let's get you into a bath." And he began steering Merlin into an empty room across the corridor, where he had already had a huge copper tub filled to the brim with warm, soapy water.

" _Why_ ," Merlin began, as he stripped off and padded over to the bath, "are your chambers covered with...well, with covers?" he looked as though he was still picturing Arthur's room, which now resembled something slightly less than a Prince's sleeping place, and slightly more like a Merlin's nest.

"I wanted to idiot-proof the whole castle," Arthur told him mildly, before crouching down so he could cup the back of Merlin's head with one hand, and pour water over his head from a small jug with the other. "But I don't think that would be very practical. At least you'll be all right in our room, though."

Merlin spluttered. " _Our roo—_ wait, _idiot proof_? What do you mean 'be all right'?"

Arthur sighed, lifting an eyebrow as he used a cloth to rub away some of the dirt behind Merlin's ear. "How many times have you fallen out of bed this week?"

"Err..." Merlin chewed his bottom lip, "once or twice?"

"Four times, Merlin. And it's only Wednesday. Admittedly, three of those times you were awake and just being a complete oaf—" Arthur was afraid he didn't do a very good job of holding back an affectionate smile, as he thought about Merlin rolling about on the bed and laughing about who knew what, until he disappeared over the edge, "but still."

"So you...you did all that for me?" Merlin blinked at him, perplexed. "I mean, it looks ridiculous and you really needn't have gone to so much trouble but..."

"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur grumbled. "I figured it'd keep for the time being, until I could come up with something more suitable."

"You could always just chain me to the bed," Merlin suggested, innocently. "No chance of me slipping up then."

"Mm," Arthur conceded thoughtfully, "maybe if you're lucky..."

Merlin flicked a small spray of water at him. "Prat."

"Clumsy idiot."

"Yes but you've come up with a solution for that. There is no cure for your prattishness, so I win."

"I have already told you to shut up, right?"

"Yeah, but it didn't work." Merlin grinned at him, eyes sparkling.

Arthur took a moment to just look at him; taking in the small bruises and scrapes on his knees that stuck out of the water. This was Merlin, and Arthur had fallen for him as thoroughly as Merlin had fallen from the bed that morning. That was why Arthur had made his room _their_ room, and also how he knew that there were many ways to make Merlin be quiet, and _telling_ him to would always be the least successful option.

He huffed softly, doing his best to sound exasperated but failing as his mouth brushed against Merlin's, and Merlin gave a shaky little moan of delight before going as silent as he was capable, and kissing back.


End file.
